


Where You Belong

by MyPersonalKilljoy



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Baz has a kitten, Baz you depressing fuck, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, Simon is in love, because of course he has a kitten, gareth is a fucking douche but we love him, sounds enticing right?, the ending is basically just chapter 61 but in a disco setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyPersonalKilljoy/pseuds/MyPersonalKilljoy
Summary: In which Baz is an overworked employee and Simon is an outrageous flirt who always runs out of printing credit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is bad i am but a humble servant trying to bring some gay magic to the world 
> 
> (Reprographics is basically like the printing office in British schools, don't know if it's the same all over the globe but yeah and like printing credit is just how much you're allowed to print in a give time period, usually over the course of a week)
> 
> not beta'd so please don't shout at me i don't even know what a beta is

Simon opened the heavy door to the familiar sound of printers and typing keys; the mechanical noises created a soft, almost calm ambiance. A grin grew on Simon’s face as his eyes raked over the large office to find Baz hunched over his desk, pencil in mouth and forehead creased in frustration.

The room was large considering Simon has only seen two people in it at a time, although most of it is taken up by a string of printers that take up most of the wall next to the door. Two desks near the far wall, facing away from each other -Baz’s doing, he said that he would have stabbed Gareth’s eye out with a pencil if he had to stare at him without frequent intervals- with two monitors on each. A long countertop took up the wall opposite the door, various cupboards hooked up to the walls, a sink and a kettle because Baz persuaded all the teachers to go on strike until they were given sufficient tea making appliances in every room with a plug. He was especially proud of that particular feat, and chose to bring it up at every opportunity.

Baz hadn’t noticed Simon had come in so he chose to take advantage of the dark-haired man’s ignorance by staring unabashedly at him. He was absolutely stunning, all long legs and flawless skin. No one had any idea what the hell he was doing in the damn Repro department, he should be walking down fucking catwalks, not high-school corridors. Not that Simon was complaining, he loved seeing Baz so often, although he could easily enjoy seeing the man in a state of undress that would certainly be too sinful for any photoshoot. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t a model, he was simply too gorgeous, he would put everyone else to same. Maybe that’s also why he doesn’t put out, despite Simon’s many months of trying. Maybe he’s afraid of blinding Simon with the beautiful sight of his naked body.

“Snow?” Baz asked in a tone which implied he had been repeating Simon’s name for a while to no avail. Simon could see the little vein in his forehead even from the opposite side of the room. “May I hazard a guess of your intentions in my office?” Asked Baz, raising an eyebrow while beginning to type again on his computer.

“Came to see you, my darling. Why else would I come? I’ll only ever come for you,” Simon said, smirking at his own innuendo. It had taken him the whole trek from the English department to come up with that one.

Baz only raised his eyebrow even higher and carried on typing, which was more of an insult than any possible response he could have given. Simon decidedly did not pout and _definitely_ didn’t scuff his feet on the trek over to Baz’s desk. He wasn’t petty, after all.

“How are you today, love? Busy? I have a free period right now and I know that you get on your break in five minutes, fancy dinner?” Simon asked as he leaned over Baz’s shoulder to see what he was typing.

Baz finally stopped typing, turning around in his chair so his chest was almost touching Simon’s. Simon flew back in surprise and watched as Baz blinked owlishly at him. Huh, he would have made a pretty owl. “Dinner? I only get fifteen minutes for break, how can we have dinner in fifteen minutes?”

“We can do a lot in fifteen minutes, trust me.” Simon made his best attempt at a leer, which, in hindsight, probably looked more like he was having a stroke.

“Umm, do you guys have to flirt when I’m in the room? It’s a bit awkward.” The voice made both Baz and Simon jump, the latter almost falling right into the former’s lap -not that he would have any qualms about that. Simon’s head snapped up once he regained balance as he saw Gareth sitting at his desk which faced the wall. He had to turn around fully in his seat to look at Simon and Baz, although Simon guessed that he wouldn’t have to put that much effort into hearing them.

“Gareth? When the hell did you get here?” Baz asked, making Simon’s heart flutter at how in sync the two of them were. They were made for each other, truly.

“I’ve been here all morning, I brewed you a cup of tea, remember?” Gareth said, as if he hadn’t just appeared out of thin air.

“Oh, I always just assumed that my tea brewed itself on a morning, either that or a very polite ghost.” Baz looked thoughtful, and slightly forlorn, like he was truly put out at the realisation that the school wasn’t actually haunted. “You really ought to make your presence known, maybe tie a bell around your neck or something.”

“Well maybe if you let me turn my desk around so I’m not facing the wall like some damn child who’s been put in the naughty corner, you would be able to acknowledge my presence.” Gareth’s mouth formed a pout and he crossed his arms; Simon was pretty sure he had also stamped his foot, although he couldn’t be sure. The irony of the situation had apparently gone unnoticed by Gareth, and neither Simon nor Baz bothered to educate him.

“Why, Gareth, who ever said I wanted to acknowledge your presence? Now, turn back around, you’ve used up your allowance for words today so I better not hear a peep coming from you for the rest of the day.” Gareth spluttered for a while before huffing and turning back to his computer.

Baz smirked slightly before looking back at Simon, his eyes widened for a second in surprise before they lit up like the fluorescent lights that hung over their heads.

“How many pages are you planning to print today then?” Baz asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Not much, honestly. Don’t give me that look, you know that I had to print off a thirty page leaflet for all my Year 11s two days ago, it‘s not my fault.”

“Can’t you just tell me how many pages you will need for the whole week rather than doing this every other day?” Baz asked. Simon would have been offended if Baz hadn’t have been saying that every time he came for the past six months.

“Not much today, I only need to print off about twenty five pages worth of extracts for my Year 8’s, oh and some handouts too, but I only need about twelve of them. None of them need to be in colour, unless you’re feeling particularly generous.”

“That’s what you call ‘not much’?” Baz arched his eyebrow again and gave Simon such a thorough onceover. Simon almost blushed at the indecency of it all. “Honestly, Snow, you’re going to drive this school to ruin with how much money you waste on printing.”

“It’ll be worth it, as long as I get a chance to see you.”

Baz didn’t answer; Gareth could be heard banging his head against his desk.

\---

The first-time Simon saw him he spilled his tea all over the corridor. It was good tea too, he’d brought it all the way from home in a thermos, it had been Agatha’s favourite brand, a damn fortune from the supermarket and Simon still refused to say that he liked it aloud. He bought that brand of tea every other week, even after Agatha left; it had become a habit. Despite what Penny thought: he wasn’t hung up on Agatha. And he certainly wasn’t dealing with the fact she dumped him by buying expensive tea that she liked. It was just a habit. Go to the shops after work, get milk, some bread, gawk at the price of tea nowadays but buy the most expensive kind anyway then go home to mark the children’s work before going to bed alone and wallowing in self-pity until he finally fell asleep. Habit. It was just a habit. 

He always made sure he didn’t spill a single drop, lest he become bankrupt. However, when being faced with the prettiest backside he had ever had the fortune to see, he simply couldn’t be blamed for spontaneously losing motor control. The beforementioned backside was attached to a body that was waist deep inside a large printer which had been out of order for a couple of weeks. Simon would gladly have let that arse become a permanent feature in the building, even if it meant walking all the way to Maths -he had to suppress a shudder at the word- to print of a damn piece of paper.

Penny didn’t seem to share his sentiment though, if her shrieking had been anything to go by. The arse apparently had a face, which turned to the source of the shrieking quickly, like he was about to be attacked by a crazed banshee or something.

“Simon!” Penny yelled, loud enough that Mr Watson -he really ought to call other teachers by their first names, at least in his head- poked his head through the door of his classroom to see what was going on. “You spilled coffee all over me! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Simon’s head spun faster than an electron that moved rapidly in the cloudlike region around the nucleus and wow being a teacher had really started to rub off on him. He made a mental note to stop hanging out with members of the Science department on his break.

“Oh fu- gosh, are you okay? Did it burn you?” Simon couldn’t even imagine how much she would moan if he managed to give her third degree burns.

“Yes, I’m fine, you absolute numpty.” She shook her head fondly and pushed away his hands which had started to try and pat her down to try and dry her clothing. Probably a good idea, rumours spread faster in schools than fire did in dry grass.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” A voice of pure silk asked from behind Simon. Fuck, that voice. Simon would have dreams about that voice.

“I’m great, thanks.” Simon found himself saying, spinning around to stare at the Adonis. His face was just as dreamy as his arse was, plump lips and high cheekbones and what the hell was this man doing half way inside a printer when he _could_ have been half way to Simon’s bed.

Arse with a Face, as Simon has christened him, rose an aristocratic eyebrow and his mouth twitched in what was almost a smile.

“Oh, you were talking to her. Sorry.” Simon said, not feeling sorry in the least. It was fine though, he would admit all his lies on their wedding day and make a vow to never lie to him again.

Arse with a Face looked over at Penny, who nodded her head in confirmation.

“Simon, I need to go and change, I should be back by next period but if I don’t then you need to cover my lesson, okay? I’ll tell the front desk, you tell Rosie what happened, she should be in her office.” When Simon didn’t move from his position of staring at the Adonis like he was the eighth lost wonder of the world, she added, “Come on, Simon, battle stations.”

“I- you- we. Bye.” Simon stuttered, he could feel his face flushing and quickly scurried in the direction of his boss’ office, feeling both strangely hopeful and terrified.

\---

“Sir, no one was in the IT office. I knocked and everything.” Lucy said anxiously, playing with the cuff of her sleeve.

Simon sighed, the smartboard wasn’t connecting and his computer screen was playing up so he had spent the first ten minutes of the lesson playing eye-spy with the kids. They were all about fifteen though, so they grew bored quickly, in the end he had just let them talk among themselves until Lucy returned, hopefully with one of the blokes from IT.

“Thank you, Lucy.” He raked his brain for someone who was good with technology and was about to give up and just make them all do an essay when the answer hit him. “Just one more thing, do you know where the Repro office is?”

Five minutes later, and a promise from all his students not to embarrass him, Baz strolled through the door with a flustered Lucy in tow. The chatter in the room stopped instantly. Baz didn’t so much as break his stride. Apparently, everyone becoming speechless at his presence was a common enough occurrence that he had long since stopped acknowledging it.

Then, everyone seemed to have come back to their senses and a fury of whispers rang out, _oh my god, it’s that hot guy_ and _see, I told you he wasn’t a figment of my imagination_ and rather a lot of _oh holy fuck._

“Snow,” Simon had no idea how Baz always managed to make his name sound like a goddamn sin, the single syllable putting the dirtiest of dirty talk to shame when said in that smooth, sexy drawl. “What printing qualms could you possibly have for me today?”

“Not printers today, for once. My computer’s gone weird and the board won’t work.” He lazily pointed at the board. “I would have gotten someone more qualified but they all seem to have taken a leave of absence.”

“More qualified?” Baz asked, a smirk pulling at those lips. He walked - _fucking sauntered_ \- over to the projector and motioned with his hand for the two boys behind the desk below it to move. They did so immediately, surprising Simon with their willingness, Simon doubted that they would do so much as call for help if Simon was getting mauled by bears. Then again, Baz could be very persuasive.

He turned one of the chairs around and stood on it in one swift movement, reminding Simon of a fox. A cat suit him better, come to think of it, elegant and uncaring and beautiful. Definitely a cat.

Baz always wore tight shirts -Simon had theorised that he did it just to drive Simon insane - but the shirt he was wearing that day (the black one, the one that featured in most of Simon’s fantasies) was just too far. He got out a tiny screwdriver from fanny pack he kept at his hip -and how the hell did he manage to make a _fanny pack_ look like something out of Vogue- and reached up to the projector, his shirt riding up to reveal a layer of skin as he did so.

It was almost comical to see all the students’ mouths drop and move so they could get a better look at the hint of skin. Even boys who Simon really wouldn’t have expected to be interested started furiously at it.

Baz, oblivious as always, carried on tinkering with the stupid machine without a care in the world. Simon realised with a start that the man was still talking and quickly tried to catch on to what the subject was “…took a course on it in Uni until, well, until I left. Projectors are always a pain though, fickle little things that break easily, unless you buy a good one mind. Well, that should work, only temporary though, I’ll tell Dev to replace it when I see him next, he was probably just running an errand or something.” Baz put the array of tools he had gotten out back into his bag before getting off the table, much to everyone’s disappointment.

“Try just turning the computer off and on again, expert advice I know, doubt you would have come up with that solution if I wasn’t here.” He straightened his shirt and ran an ink stained hand through his hair.

“You’re a godsend, Baz. I’ll have to find some way to repay you, dinner, maybe?” Simon asked in a rush before realising he was asking out a colleague in front of thirty odd students.

It didn’t really matter though, because Baz couldn’t take a hint if it was handed to him on a silver platter with a sign that said ‘Hey, I’m a hint, you oblivious fuck’ and Simon was only a little bit in love with him. “No need, I brought my own lunch today, I’ve hidden it in the Maths department fridge because I was tired of Gareth stealing it all the time. I’ll fire him one day, I swear.”

“You’ll keep him around until the day you die, admit it. You just love having someone to moan at.” Simon said, trying not to feel too forlorn at the rejection. One would think that it would get easier with how often it happened.

“That’s why I have you, numpty.” Baz said before ruffling Simon’s hair and leaving the room as elegantly as he entered.

Silence hung until a small, hesitant voice said, “Sir, are you two dating?”

Simon’s head whipped around to see Lucy with her hand raised slightly, face bright red with embarrassment. “No, no, of course not. We’re just friends, obviously, I’m not dating him. Not that two guys dating is wrong. I mean, I- no. We’re not dating.” His words came out in a mess which caused the students to look at him in disbelief.

“Do you want to date him?” Jeremy asked from his seat near the back. Simon was slightly taken aback; Jeremy almost never said more than three words at a time.

“Of course he does, who wouldn’t? Did you see that guy? He looked like a model.” Carmen said from the front with such passion that Simon was briefly astounded.

“I think it’s cute that Mr. Snow has a crush, and on someone who works in the school as well!” Louise said dreamily, probably already thinking about the colour scheme of their wedding -hazy blue and light grey, to compliment Baz’s eyes, not that Simon has thought about it or anything- or the names of their future children -four of them, Luke and Leia, and Baz could pick the names of other two. “It’s like the most epic love story from like, ever.”

“I do _not_ have a crush on him!” Simon briefly wondered if it was in good taste to bang his head against the table and force everyone to write a thousand words about how Simon should just get over his ‘not crush’ already. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Well, I don’t know, Sir.” Carmen started, sounding far too smug for her own good, “ _Do_ we have to talk about this?”

\---

“Yes, but who _is_ he?” Simon asked his phone, biting his pen in frustration and giving one of his students a much harsher grade than he normally would have. He felt bad instantly and wrote a little comment with a smiley face at the end to reassure them. He wasn’t that bad, after all. “He couldn’t have just popped up out of nowhere, could he?” 

The voice on the other end of the line let out a long-suffering sigh. Simon almost rolled his eyes and moved onto the next paper. “Really, Simon, how do you expect me to know? Despite what you may think, I don’t actually know everything.”

“Penny, that’s a lie and we both know it. It is common knowledge that you are an all-knowing, all-seeing God.”

“Hmm, and don’t you forget it.” He quickly lost his resolve and rolled his eyes, thankful Penny wasn’t actually in the room lest she complain about them falling out of their sockets. “I’m guessing he’s just one of the new hires, IT maybe? Why are you so interested anyway?” Penny asked, sounding like she already knew the answer and was just asking because she felt obliged to do so.

“Well, I’m sorry if I want to get to know my colleagues, Penny. We’re not all unsociable little bookworms that only talk to their childhood friends and some guy in who lives in America, whose existence is still questionable as no one has ever actually seen him before.”

“Micah is real!”

“Penny, we both know that the best way to deal with things is to admit the truth.” Simon joked, laughing quietly so the microphone on his mobile wouldn’t pick it up.

“Well, how about you admit that you have a crush on printer face!” Simon gasped in mock outrage at the accusation, but really, there was no point in denying anything when Penny was concerned.

“He does have a name you know.” Simon said instead.

“And that name is?” Penny asked, smugness dripping from every word.

“How about you ask Micah?” Simon laughed, not stopping even after Penny shouted at him and hung up out of exaggerated anger. He finally calmed down and after looking at the clock, he decided to go to bed.

He decidedly did not dream of grey eyes and perfect arses.

\---

This was it. This was the day. Simon was going to go in to Repro and ask if Baz was single. If he was, then Simon would ask him out. If he wasn’t, then Simon would catch the elevator to the top floor and fling himself off the roof. There we go, solid plan.

There were only two outcomes: they have a long, happy marriage and lots of mind-blowing sex or Simon is left heartbroken and in despair until he finally dies from heart failure after eating one too many sour cherry scones.

Simon had planned the day out to the T, he would get a coffee -strangely, he had gone off tea- from Starbucks with enough caffeine to paralyse an elephant, then he would print out twenty sheets of paper with black backgrounds and photos containing every damn colour under the sun so his printing credit would run into the negatives and he would simply _have_ to go to Reprographics to get some more. He felt a little bad about wasting that much ink, but ate seemed to be on his side as a flier for a bake sale to get some more funding for the school caught his eye. He grinned, making a mental note to buy every single cake that they didn’t sell, that would hopefully make up for the money he was wasting in his futile search for love.

He was debating whether to print in A3 when he felt a tap on his shoulder and Agatha was there in all her glory; beautiful and paint stained and still managing to rip Simon’s heart out as if she still owned it.

“Hi.” She said, smiling like she hadn’t ruined Simon’s life, like she hadn’t ripped the foundations of existence right out from under him and left him with nothing. (Somewhere in the distance, Penny felt a spontaneous urge to roll her eyes.)

“Hi.” He countered, like he wasn’t having a mental breakdown right in front of his ex.

It wasn’t as if this was the first time they had seen each other since their breakup -eleven months, or thereabouts- they worked in the same school, they made awkward eye contact in schoolboard meetings and tried to ignore the others presence when they both stumbled into the staff room at the same time. They had even talked before, well, Simon had sent one of his students to ask the pretty art teacher for some sugar paper -it counts, okay?

“How are you?” Agatha asked, her smile so kind and fake that it made Simon want to cry, just a little.

“I’m okay.” Simon replied, trying to control his breathing so he sounded less like he’d just run a marathon, “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s good.” What now? Simon didn’t know the social etiquette of talking to an ex while at the printer just before going to ask out the love of his life, who may or may not be interested in him and may or may not also be a male. 

“Weathers good.” Simon said, because he was British, goddammit. Weather and wellness were the only small talk topics he knew.

“It is.” Agatha nodded enthusiastically, “Summer is coming early, for once.”

They fell into silence, Agatha looking uncomfortable and Simon trying to think of a way of making an escape without it being very obvious that he was doing so.

Penny thought that he was still in love with Agatha, she never said it, but Simon could tell. A small part of him had believed it too, an even smaller part hoped that they would get back together. He realised then though, while staring at Agatha and wishing, for the first time really, that he could be anywhere else in the world. He didn’t love her, not anymore at least. He loved _the idea_ of her, loved the concept of her existence. He’d never understood why she broke up with him, he’d thought she was just saying ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ in a prettier way. Agatha probably knew him better than anyone else in the world, except Penny, maybe. Simon had loved the concept of a happy ending, that’s what Agatha was, she was safe. But that wasn’t love.

When Simon would look back on it, years later, he would say that he only found closure with Agatha eleven months -or thereabouts- after they broke up, stood next to a printer and making awkward small talk with the person he had one point thought was his everything.

(Agatha would say it was when she caught Simon snogging the hot guy from Reprographics three months after, but that is neither here nor there.)

He found himself stood outside the door to Reprographics twenty minutes later, speech memorised after having been said repeatedly to himself in front of the mirror at home –“I’m not pathetic. I’m not pathetic. I’m not pathetic. Oh shit, I’m so pathetic.”- and straightening his tie out of nervousness. Simon walked into the room to see Gareth smugly sat at _Baz’s_ desk, typing idly on _Baz’s_ computer. Despite his relaxed demeanour, Simon didn’t miss the way he stiffened when the door opened.

“He’s taking a vacation day, told me he’s got a hot date and doesn’t wish to associate with us mere mortals any longer… please don’t tell him I sat at his desk.” Gareth pleaded as soon as he saw it was Simon, probably considering begging at Simon’s feet for his silence.

Simon opened his mouth but no words came out. Baz was on a date. Baz was on a date with some person who would never, ever deserve Baz. Baz was on a date with someone who wasn’t Simon.

Baz was on a date.

“How much credit do you need?” Gareth asked, oblivious to Simon’s existential crisis. Oblivious to everything that doesn’t directly concern him, really.

Simon just shook his head and left the room, not entirely sure what he was going to do with his life.

“What a weirdo. I have no idea why Baz has a crush on that guy, he must really be desperate.” Gareth muttered after the door had closed fully. He shook his head and went back to his _very important_ task of scrolling through Tinder.

\---

Simon was not a stalker.

This was a phrase that Simon had been saying to himself a lot as of late. He said it so much to himself that he had actually started to believe it.

So, he didn’t feel _too_ creepy by walking around the entire school trying to look for Arse with a Face -that was starting to become a mouthful, maybe he could shorten it to something… AwaF, there we go- by looking into every room and subtly asking his co-workers. After all, Simon was well known for his subtlety, or lack thereof, but that was irrelevant.

He looked through windows and poked his head in to classrooms but to no avail. Where the hell was he? He had made a fool of himself in front of all the IT people by trying to describe AwaF but only coming out with ‘has an arse that takes your breath away.’ He’d even gone to the maths department, and if that didn’t show his commitment to finding this guy then he didn’t know what did. But it didn’t even matter! Simon would never find AwaF, he was destined to live the lonely life of an overworked high school teacher. He would buy seven cats and they would eat his body in his sleep.

“Stop moping, it’s not a good look on you.” Penny said absentmindedly, she was marking some essays with one hand and with the other she was eating chicken she had ordered Simon to buy.

“I’m not moping.” Simon said, clearly moping.

“Yeah and I’m Audrey Hepburn,” She gave him an incredulous look, “Face the facts, Simon, he was probably just some technician that got called in to fix the printer. You have to move on.”

She gave him that disgustingly sympathetic look that everyone gives you when they’re indirectly talking about your ex.

“Wow, you should have told me I’d be having KFC with a celebrity, I would have worn some nicer clothes.” He started packing his things away, he knew he was overreacting, he knew that Penny was only trying to help him. He also knew that he didn’t give a fuck and if he didn’t leave as soon as possible he would explode.

Penny didn’t seem to get that memo though.

“Simon, don’t go. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” She still had that look on her face. Simon didn’t think he could look at her any longer, he needed to go. He needed to be alone. He needed, he needed… he didn’t know what he needed.

“I just remembered, I need to print off some sheets for my Year 7s, I have them in an hour, I should probably get on with that. Talk to you later.” Simon made his escape before she could react. He actually did need to print off those sheets, he had meant to do it in his free period before lunch but Penny had texted him with the request of bringing her chicken.

He had already sent the twenty odd sheets to the printer, so he just needed to log in to access them. Except for the annoying sound of printers though, there was just a quiet beep. Confused, he read the little screen attached to the top and groaned. Just his fucking luck, he was out of credit. That’s probably due to having to make booklets for both his Year 10s and 11s though, after all, he never really printed much. He didn’t like to waste that much paper, he only really printed out extracts, everything else he could just show on the board.

He briefly considered going to Reprographics, but he dismissed it as soon as the idea popped into his head. The old woman who worked in there was a right bitch, she had the face that looked like the rear end of a toad and her personality was even worse. He didn’t think that he would be able to deal with a conversation with her in his current state. He sighed and started walking idly through the school, thankful that the kids were all in classes so the corridors were empty.

Penny was right, he would never see AwaF again. He didn’t care. AwaF was just… well, he was just an arse with a face. He was probably a dick; all the pretty people were dicks, it was the way of the world. Some people were born to be dicks. Others were born to be in love with dicks. Great, now Simon was thinking about being in love with AwaF’s dick.

He wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking, so he ended up walking straight into a wall in true Simon Snow style. He muttered a curse as he rubbed his nose, looking up to see the door of Reprographics. Simon sighed and debated just leaving, he really didn’t think he could deal with that old bint. Well, he was right there. He sighed once again, truly hating his life, and knocked the door a few times. She always got in a right mood when people didn’t knock. A couple of minutes pass before he knocks again, tapping his foot with impatience. He counts to sixty a few times before deciding to just fuck it all, kicking the door so hard he swore, then he promptly turned around and scampered before the mad old bint could catch him. 

He walked -sprinted- to the safety of his classroom, proceeding to stare at his computer screen until the bell went and his class meandered in.

(Baz poked his head out of the door of his new office after hearing a faint, mysterious crash. He didn’t think too much of it though. If it had been someone looking for him they would have just read the sign next to the door that he had put up. It read: ‘Stroll right in as I am probably going to be half buried in a printer and my dumb as nails assistant will be too busy listening to Taylor Swift to hear you.’)

\---

Simon managed to get himself a bit of a reputation for his printing, it was actually a topic that came up frequently when gossiping next to the water fountain -and wow, doesn’t _that_ make the life of teacher sound fun: discussing how much a co-worker prints.

So, when he went from printing out literally everything that could possibly be printed to not printing at all, it took everyone by surprise.

One wouldn’t think that it would be too much of a problem, but Simon printed out _everything._ Hell, on one memorable occasion, he had run out of lined paper so had printed lines onto plain just because he was too lazy to go to the storage cupboard on the floor above. Although, with Simon being Simon, he’d accidentally typed in ‘3000’ rather than ‘30’. Baz had given him the wonderful idea of selling them to all the other teachers who were too lazy for the trek up the truly, _truly_ exhausting stairs. He ended up selling it for £2 every hundred sheets. (He made a huge profit, although Baz somehow managed to coax him into splitting his profits with the dark-haired man, he was a scoundrel, honestly.)

Simon had gotten six ‘Get Well!’ cards, four people inquiring about his mental health, a handful of worried glances and two free dinners throughout the week. Lord, if he knew that all he needed for people to give him free food was to stop destroying half of the worlds paper supply he would have done it a long time ago.

“Simon, buddy, are you okay?” Mr Smith -Danny, Danny, his name was Danny- asked him as he planted himself down in the seat across from Simon. “Michelle told me you haven’t printed anything off in over a week. I want you to know that I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

“I’m fine Mr- Danny, really, I just watched a documentary about deforestation is all. Got me thinking, you know?” Simon said, trying out his best smile. Although, from the look on Mr Smith’s -Danny, goddamn it!- face, it probably looked more like a grimace.

“Is this about your boyfriend? Have you had a fight or something? Do you want me to, you know, _deal_ with him?” He tilted his head to the side and made some obscene gesture with his hands.

“My boyfriend? What… Baz? You’re talking about Baz?” Simon asked, genuinely confused.

“Yeah, the printer guy. Who else would I be talking about?”

“Baz isn’t my boyfriend.” Simon tried not to pout, he really did. “He’s not my anything… Wait, you thought we were dating?”

“Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to- you just, like, everyone knows that if you’re not in your classroom you’ll be in Repro, and well, the way you two kids look at each other I- sorry.” Mr Smith -fuck it- made an uncomfortable expression and scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s fine.” Simon took pity on the man and offered him a small smile. “I just- wait, what do you mean the way we look at each other?”

If anything, this just made Mr Smith even more uncomfortable, a blush was racing up his neck and his pained expression made it clear he would rather be anywhere else.

“You look at each other like two people who are more than friends.” He said, giving Simon the sense he was choosing his words carefully.

Simon nodded, too shocked by the man’s confession to react.

“I better be going,” Simon said once he got his composure back, “Have to get ready for my next lesson.”

He took his leave before Mr Smith could react, practically falling out of his chair and only just stopping himself from sprinting to the safety of his classroom. 

He fell into his chair as soon as he got there, feeling the odd urge to cry. It was still quiet (ten minutes until the bell for the next lesson) so he was left with only his thoughts for company. Penny was teaching her A Level class and he wasn’t really friends with any of the other teachers here, it was too strange. Most of them had taught him just a few years before, he had never been able to shake the feeling that they were all looking down on him, that they all thought he was just some dumb kid. Everyone else had been able to leave this school, expect Simon, Simon had come right back as soon as he was let out, and he dragged Penny with him.

Simon smiled, running his hand over the wall gently. He was glad he came back; this school was more of a home to him than anywhere else in the world.

The bell rang and Simon couldn’t help but grin. He loved this school. He wasn’t going to let a damn crush on a co-worker do anything ruin that.

It _was_ just a crush after all; he’d get over it.

\---

It wasn’t like Baz was in love with the man or anything; it was just a crush.

It wasn’t like he got butterflies whenever the man walked -fell, usually, he was an absolute mess- through the door with that crooked grin and bright blue - _blue, blue, blue_ \- eyes. It wasn’t like he lived for every moment that the man talked to him, for every smile or grin or laugh -oh, his laugh.

It was just a crush. Honest. Anyway, he wasn’t some schoolgirl with a crush, he was a grown-ass man… with a crush. He dated, quite successfully; he had a long line of men desperate to spend time with him. He went out to bars and flirted with guys twice his age and then slinked away just as they were about to make a move because he loved playing hard to get. That was the only reason, not because he was in love with a completely straight guy who would never give him a second look or anything.

His current conquest, Mathew, was lovely. He had a gorgeous face and a perfect body and he was terribly polite and he paid for the meal without even giving the price a second look. He walked Baz to his front door and smiled a gorgeous smile that was full of bright teeth and really, he was quite lovely.

He left, but not before asking for Baz to call him.

Baz never called him.

Not because he was in love, but because he had pronounced ‘foyer’ the way it was spelt rather than ‘for-yay’, and Baz’s standards were well above that. What if he was to take him to meet his family and he said something else as idiotic as that? No, it simply wouldn’t do.

He breathed in and out deeply, staring at his bedroom ceiling and carefully not thinking of blue eyes and unruly blonde hair.

He imagined he was in a film -he would play the lead, obviously, or the gorgeous love interest at the very least- and that people were sat around a television screen laughing at his sorry excuse of an existence.

Where would the film start? He wondered. Knowing his luck the film would begin with a montage of all his most embarrassing moments. Flying over the handlebars on sports day in front of the entire year because he had never really got the hand of bike riding. Getting a wet dream while sharing a sleeping bag with his very male and very straight best friend on a camping trip with school. The time he lost his virginity to the captain of the opposing football team in the locker room on a bed of sweaty socks the night before they were due to go against each other in the more important match of the year. Or maybe just after that, when Baz’s entire team -coach included- walked in on them in all their post coital glow. Maybe when he was caught smoking pot and vandalising the wall of a church with words that really didn’t belong on the wall of a church -in his defence, he didn’t know that there was a church on the other side of the wall- resulting in him losing his football scholarship and being kicked out of university.

Or maybe it would start on that random Tuesday three weeks after he got a job as a glorified repair man in a damn high school.

_“Gareth, I swear to every deity who is listening that if you don’t get off your arse in the next twelve seconds I will make your head a permanent decoration on the wall.”_

_“Pfft, that isn’t a threat, you would be honoured to have my gorgeous face on the wall.” Gareth rolled his stupid eyes and leaned back on his stupid chair and carried on typing with his stupid fingers._

_Baz was half sure his eye was twitching and he was only barely holding himself back from snapping Gareth’s stupid little neck._

_He let out a growl before standing up, he might as well just do it himself. He’d just asked the little shit to reload the paper in the printer on the top floor but _of course_ that was such an outrageous request for someone of Gareth’s calibre._

_He got up and just as he was about to open the door a familiar looking bloke walked through it with a look on his face that suggested he was preparing to walk down death row or something equally damning._

_They bumped into each other with such force that Baz had to reach out and grab the guy’s shoulder. The man’s face had turned from miserable to shell-shocked in less than a second._

_“Sorry, anything I can help you with?” Baz asked, polite only because he was still new and he didn’t want _all_ the staff to hate him. Saying that though, he didn’t look like staff, Baz would have guessed he would be sixth form at best if not for the red lanyard and the ID card hanging from his neck. He couldn’t possibly be any older than Baz himself, which was strange, he must be young for a teacher._

_“Who are you?” He got in response, the bloke’s voice was low and raspy, which would usually be doing things to Baz’s lower regions but on this guy it just gave Baz the urge to get him a glass of water._

_Baz spared a glance at Gareth, wondering if he was as weirded out as Baz was, but that man was too busy listening to music and pretending to work. Baz chose to just smile inelegantly and tap his ID card which showed his name and an awkward photo of him where the woman had told him to _‘Smile!’_ and he had only come up with a grimace._

_Baz tried to see what the guy’s name was but the card was backwards so he could only see the school logo printed on the back._

_“Oh I-“ He began, stumbling over his words like a little lamb, bless him, “You’re new, right? Work with printers?”_

_“Yeah… here, I work here.” He gestured to the room, starting to get uncomfortable. “Can I help you out?”_

_The guy started getting a little flustered and Baz couldn’t help but smile, he was adorable, this only freaked the kid out more._

_“Penny, Miss Bunce I mean, ran out of printing credit but she’s teaching right now so she asked me to go to Repro to get more even though she knows the scary old lady scares me but I agreed because she has dirt on me and so I came here because this is Repro and I’m rambling and I… yeah.”_

_Yeah. He was cute._

_“Yeah, that’s fine. Tell her that she can’t make a habit out of it though, the scary old lady told me that I’m not allowed to give out printing credit too much.” Baz walked back to his desk and looked around for a pen to make a note on the little spreadsheet he kept near his computer. He caught sight of it on the floor and bent down to reach for it -he was dimly aware of having heard a choked squeak but he dismissed it as the older printer in the corner that looked like it had been there longer than the school- before asking how much paper needed being printed off. Once the guy had coughed out a response he quickly logged on to input it on the system._

_And if his fingers moved slower than usual over the keys and his eyes kept darting over to Cute Arse standing awkwardly in the corner, well, it was nobody’s business but his own._

Baz groaned before rolling onto his side and turning on the lamp, there was no way he was going to get to sleep for a while.

The duvet moved next to him and a tiny head poked out, bright eyes shining in the low light. The kitten meowed softly and rolled up into a little ball next to Baz, purring slightly in such a way that made Baz grin. He had found the little tuxedo cat a few weeks ago during some particularly heavy rain, she’d been behind a dumpster and he had seen her while trying to find shelter from the rain in the alleyway. The tiny cat had been cowering inside a box, soaked and miserable -and really, Baz must be living some fictional life because that was the most cliché meeting of all time- and Baz couldn’t exactly leave her.

He had taken her to the vet the very next day, deciding he deserved a day off anyway. Gareth had called while they were sat in the waiting room, the kitten sitting on his lap seen as he hadn’t got around to buying anything to carry her round in. He’d been pissed off because it was Gareth and when wasn’t he pissed off when Gareth was involved so he’d made some half-arsed excuse of being on a date with someone a lot better than _Gareth_ , the prick.

He hadn’t gotten around to given her a name yet, which was no doubt due to his extensive list of problems; his trust issues or how irresponsible he is or how not naming a damn cat is a metaphor for how he doesn’t think he deserves that much power of something’s life when his own is such a mess.

He would be a psychiatrist’s wet dream, honestly. 

“I’m not in love with him.” He told the cat. Her ears twitched in response. “I don’t care what you say, he’s just a friend, not even that, a colleague… We’re business partners- practically acquaintances. Don’t give me that look.” She batted her sleepy eyes and her mouth broke apart open a wide yawn.

“I know, I know, okay. Gosh, you’re talking my damn ear off woman, can’t get a word in edgeways with you.” She dropped her head on her paws and eyed him with that holier-than-thou look which made Baz feel so proud he had to take a moment to pull himself back together; he finally understood how it felt to be a proud mother. “Okay, so I like him, I’ll be the bigger man and admit it. Just… there’s no point, he’s straight, used to date the pretty girl from Art, you know? It’s only a matter of time until they get back together. Why am I still there? It was only supposed to be a temporary job until things got sorted at home.” He reached out his hand and stroked her head, making sure to scratch the back of her ears the way she liked it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know who I am.”

At some point during his little speech she had fallen asleep, which was rather rude really, he’d have to remember not to give her any of the fancy treats in the morning. Still, he reached out to try and turn off the lamp without waking her (he was a true and utter saint sometimes, this world simply didn’t deserve someone as good and pure as him). The room was enveloped by darkness and the silence that fell was almost deafening, her breathing too shallow to be heard.

The night was quiet and Baz could have sworn that only he and the moon were awake in the entire world.

“I’m in love with Simon Snow.” He whispered, the steady heartbeat in his chest doing nothing to assure him that he was alive.

\---

Gareth was a chatty prick if there ever was one. The wanker knew it too, probably made him talk more, thinking about it.

Baz had mostly gotten used to it, could drown out his voce if he went into zen mode, even though the guy’s voice was like sandpaper grinding against his skull. He usually just found an excuse to leave if he got really chatty, or busied himself with a project he had been putting off.

He only really tuned in for random words or phrases -Gareth always kicked up a fuss when he removed his head from his own arse long enough to realise Baz wasn’t listening.

So, when he dipped back into Gareth’s never-ending monologue to realise he was talking about Simon he asked him to repeat, he was only being a good friend after all, Gareth was very dear to Baz and he wanted to listen to what his friend had to say. It had nothing at all to do with how Baz was -not, not, not- in love with that printer credit stealing English teacher.

Gareth rolled his eyes and he was lucky that Baz was his _great_ friend right then otherwise he would have gotten a pencil in the eye.

“I said that your boyfriend visited you when you were off on your little date and he did a weird eye twitch and left in a little fit.”

“Why? What did you say?” Baz asked, faking casual and knowing that he was being completely transparent.

“Exactly what I said, that you were on a date and then I asked him how much credit he’d need and he just left, didn’t even say anything. Looked like he was having a mental breakdown or something.”

Gareth kept talking but Baz wasn’t listening -he was back to hating the dick. That was nearly a month ago. Simon had been acting weird for about as long… It couldn’t be connected, could it?

“When was the last time he visited?” Baz wondered aloud, Simon usually came in twice a week at least, but Baz couldn’t remember the last time he had come by at all.

Gareth didn’t reply, and when Baz turned to him he found Gareth had twisted around in his chair to look back at him. He had a strange look on his face, like he didn’t understand if Baz was intentionally being obtuse or if he really was an idiot. Baz was momentarily taken aback, that expression was usually on his own face, it felt weird having it aimed at himself.

Then Gareth muttered something under his breath and turned around, facing the wall and shaking his head like a disappointed mum. Baz pouted and flipped him the bird because he was the boss and he was too nice to dock Gareth’s pay. Occasional bird flipping and eye stabbing would just have to compensate.

He didn’t get much work done after that, spending most of his time staring at is computer screen without really seeing anything.

\---

Baz knew that there was a school dance going on. Banners were stuck on all the walls and it seemed to be the only thing that the kids would talk about in the corridors. Even if he had missed all that he couldn’t have avoided Snow’s endless moaning on the subject.

“I don’t know why I ever agreed to this, it’s a terrible idea. I hate Penny, I hate this school, I hate dances. Oh God, what if they make me dance? They won’t make me dance, right Baz?” Baz shook his head, only half listening, he was trying to get all his work done so he wouldn’t have to stay late again; his cat was getting lonely. He still hadn’t thought up a name yet, he’d been trying some out but they didn’t feel right, he had made a minor improvement though, at least he acknowledged that the cat was his. His imaginary shrink would be proud of him.

He looked at Snow -he didn’t dare address him by his first name, even in the safety of his own brain- out of the corner of his eye, he looked frazzled; hair sticking up in every direction and tie loose around his neck and so effortlessly beautiful that it hurt a little.

“They’re making me wear a suit, like a really fancy one, like I’m getting married or something.” He shuddered as if that idea was truly terrifying, which was simultaneously relieving and gut-wrenching. “They’re taking it so seriously, like I’ll have to make sure no one is snogging in any dark corners or trying to spike the punch. There’s going to be punch, have I told you that? Punch… that’s like, well weird. There wasn’t punch back in our days-“

Baz always used to wonder how on earth Simon had managed to become an English teacher. The man abhorred nearly all contemporary literature with a fiery passion and had the vocabulary range of a mentally stunted pigeon. That was until he read something that he had written that is. It was some sort of thesis or other that Simon had had to write to graduate university -Baz purposefully didn’t think about how he was too much of a fuckup to graduate himself- and Baz hadn’t even been joking when he asked if Simon had cheated.

Simon had laughed as a blush spread across his cheeks and he had muttered that he was a dick and Baz had wanted to kiss him so bad he had to pinch himself. The thesis was the kind of pretentious shit that only English teachers could come up with, over analysing every damn word to the point of obsession, using such an impressive range of vocabulary that even Baz, who was so much of a nerd he had copied out half the dictionary just to pass time when he was a kid, had to think about it.

“This is amazing,” He had told Snow, meaning every word. “What the fuck are you doing teaching English in a damn high school, you should be a professor in Oxford or something.”

“What the fuck are you doing fixing printers in a damn high school?” Snow had retorted, smiling like he didn’t know he was breaking Baz’s heart with every syllable.

“I belong here.” Baz had said after a pause, feeling more vulnerable than he had in a while, “You’re talent, you belong somewhere far away, in the rusty basement of The Library of Alexandria, among all the ash and knowledge and burned scrolls.”

“I belong right here.” Simon had said, and for the briefest second Baz had thought -wished, wished with all his heart- that Simon meant it in the way Baz wanted him to. That Simon belonged with Baz. Then he looked away and Baz had started breathing again, wishing that Simon would never leave, he didn’t care if he was selfish, he would give anything for Simon to stay with him. He belonged with Baz, not in the damn Bibliotheca Alexandrina or some other preppy place meant for people infinitely better than Baz could ever be.

Simon jumped off the printer he had been sat on, pulling Baz out of his musings. “I better get going, I’ve got to go get changed then come back straight away to help set up. Then I’ll have to stay late to help clean up, I’ll be surprised if I get out by eight at least.” Simon sent a look that Baz couldn’t read before saying his goodbyes and leaving Baz alone.

Baz chose not to think about how he kept glancing at the clock, silently wishing it could be eight already.

\---

“Hey,” Baz said. Because he was a fucking idiot that could never do anything right.

“Baz?” Snow nearly jumped out of his skin, “What are you doing here?” He asked, squinting his eyes and titling his head to the side a little. He looked gorgeous, dressed up in a suit that Baz would be more than happy to peel off him. It was dark in the hall despite the bright spotlights pointing in various directions and the disco ball attached to the far wall that was glinting light with every turn.

_“I belong right here.”_

“I don’t know.” He wanted to kiss him. They were in a secluded corner, no one would even see, no one would know. He could kiss him and leave, wouldn’t even need to quit or tell anyone. He could just disappear, just take the cat and start walking.

Baz could kiss him.

_“I belong right here.”_

“Are you okay?” Simon asked him, concern etching his features.

He really wasn’t. Every second that passed by was another second he wasn’t kissing Simon Snow, and a life without kissing Simon Snow really wasn’t much of a life, if he was being honest.

He took a step closer, standing almost nose to nose with him. Almost. He was taller than Snow, a fact he loved to torment the other man about.

“Baz?”

He wanted to shove him against the wall and kiss him so hard his lips bled. He wanted to bite his neck and leave marks so Snow couldn’t forget him. Rip Snow apart and climb inside him, make a home inside his heart and never leave. He wanted to fucking _ruin_ him.

“Yes?”

He wanted to cup his face gently and ghost his lips over Snow’s. Run his fingers through his hair and caress his scalp, wanted to share air with him before making their lips touch so lightly that neither of them could tell where one of them ended and the other began.

“What are you doing?” Snow’s eyes are darting in all directions, scanning Baz’s face like he had words written all over it.

_“I belong right here.”_

“I have no fuckin clue.”

The room is dark but his eyes were shining - _alive, alive, alive_ \- and Baz really thought he might kiss him. He looked fragile in the low light, looked like something that would crumble and shatter if Baz knocked him too hard. He wouldn’t. He would never hurt him.

“Simon…”

\---

Simon kissed him.

He looked lost and fragile and hurt and Jesus Christ he had wanted to kiss him for so long.

He cradled his face in his hands and didn’t dare close his eyes. His lips were soft and pliant from shock and Simon had always been selfish. Everyone thought he was so _good_ and _pure_ but he wasn’t. He took and took and took until there was nothing left to take.

Simon had always been selfish. Baz was probably going to kill him, sue him for sexual assault. He’d lose his job, his dream job. He was going to lose everything.

He was going to lose Baz.

But not before he took what was his.

He had always been selfish.

\---

Snow was kissing him.

Simon Snow was kissing him.

Jesus Christ, he was living a charmed life.

\---

He was crashing. Falling to the ground in a blaze, every nerve ending was on fire and he felt light headed and hazy. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe none of this was real.

\---

Baz pulled away first, gripping onto the lapels of Snow’s suit jacket like he was drowning.

They didn’t say anything at first.

Baz just stared at Snow’s mouth and Snow just kept scanning his face.

_“I belong right here.”_

“I’m in love with you, Simon Snow.” Baz said, grinning like a maniac. He felt like he was going to die. His stomach was doing backflips and he felt the same way you do when you’re on the top of a building, looking down and something in the back of your mind is just telling you to _jump_.

He leaned in and kissed Snow again.

He was going to die kissing Simon Snow

Just not today.

\---

Baz stared at his bedroom ceiling, the only sound coming from the traffic outside and the gentle breathing next to him.

He wondered when the film would end, if it was narrating his life.

On his deathbed? His last words forever on tape to be watched by the masses? Or maybe it has already ended: a shitty romance that ends quick while the characters are happy and the dreamy guy hasn’t realised that the protagonist is a dumb dropout that can’t do anything right if their life depended on it.

Baz reached out to the sleeping form next to him, his fingers brushing over the man’s sleeping form. A small smile graced his face. Jesus, he was a fucking creep, watching his boyfriend sleep like that sparkly vampire in that movie Simon made him watch because he finds the pale guy hot.

He thought, if his life was a film, he would want it to end right at that moment. Simon sleeping next to Baz, both of them so in love that it should be unhealthy. He knew that one day Simon would tire of him, go out and meet someone better, maybe even fall back in with Agatha. He knew that he was destined to be alone. He would never deserve Simon.

But right then, in bed with the man he loved. He felt at peace.

He had finally found where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey buddio follow me on [tumblr](http://hesaidwewerestars.tumblr.com/) to shout at me about snowbaz ((shameless self promotion is shameless))


End file.
